


My Specialty is SuperTrauma

by convolutedConcussion



Series: This Could Be Okay [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Puns, M/M, No One Ever Forgets That Steve Is Over Ninety, bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam is a gift and takes over the nagging-Steve-about-dating reins in Nat's absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Specialty is SuperTrauma

“So,” Sam gasps, “Whatever happened to, uh, what's-her-name?” He pants and lets himself drop onto the grass. “I gotta—stop competin' with you, Cap,” he adds with a huff.

“You want me to take a different track?” Steve counters, grinning because he knows the answer. He hunches down to plant himself next to Sam, nudges his arm with the toe of his sneaker. “Agent 13?” he clarifies, cheeky. “We went to dinner.”

“Early bird special?” the other snipes without venom.

“Funny.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam says, “Yeah, but anyway...”

Heaving a sigh, Steve replies, “Anyway, she's too young for me.”

There's a pause and he looks over to see the guy frowning at him. “The old jokes are never as funny coming from you,” he muses. “You can't just... say a woman's too young every time you go out. I mean, if you're lookin' for someone your age who can keep up with you, your options are limited to... Bucky.” He lets that settle, and Steve keeps his face impassive and fights the laugh that threatens. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head. “Not—that. She's nice, we had fun, but it just... It's not like we had a whole lot in common.” What looms and what he doesn't say is that there's so much more on the table just now, so much more to deal with and sort out, that dating isn't exactly his top priority. Bucky _is_ a major component in that but it's not exactly like there's much Steve can do himself.

Dr. Banner suggested counseling, which Tony seconded vehemently (a tone towards which Steve finds himself pretty defensive—it's not like Bucky actually  _damaged_ Dum-E), but that's precisely the thing, isn't it? Where do you find a therapist for a guy who's been in cryo off and on for over half a century? Who's been tortured and had his memory erased and been used as a weapon instead of treated like a human? There aren't exactly those who specialize in this kind of thing. Then, assuming he were to find someone who believed all this and who thought they could do more help than harm (and Steve finds it highly suspect that there's no one like that somewhere on the Stark Industry payroll), he isn't sure how he'd get Bucky to agree to it. Going off reports from the others, Bucky does more talking to Steve than to any of them combined and he  _really hasn't been talking a whole lot._

(And Steve tries to be understanding—to see that what he went through was unimaginable but the two of them shared so much for so long that their relative silence is suffocating. Feeling this helpless leaves a sour taste in the back of his throat.)

Sam clears his throat and it brings him back to himself. “You 'bout ready to go, or do you wanna do a couple more miles?” he teases lightly, groaning to his feet. Steve cocks a brow up at him and he holds up a hand, “No, wait, I rescind that. Lunch, now.”

In surrender, Steve puts his hands up briefly before pushing himself up. “What do you feel like?”

After some consideration, Sam answers, “A hero.”

(That keeps them laughing for a solid five minutes.)

“Where is Bucky, anyway?” asks Sam, sandwich half devoured before him.

The guy's eyebrows are saying something his mouth isn't and Steve snaps into a pickle before telling him, “Barton didn't have anything to do and wanted to introduce him to, um, quote,  _good_ music since he's been... out of the picture.” He scrubs a hand down his face and huffs, “It feels like I'm enlisting babysitters for him.”

“You should bring him by the VA,” Sam mentions, off-hand. “You realize we do more than bake sales and pizza parties, right?” He offers a smile. “We don't have a specialist in superheroes but we do have some in torture,” at this he sobers. “Just... think about it, okay?”

Throat dry, Steve nods, coughing out, “Yeah. I will.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely can't believe I keep writing these. What am I doing? Where am I going? (Narrowly avoids making an Evita reference.)
> 
> Um, thanks for sticking around? There really is eventually something in the works involving some semblance of resolution. Thanks for the comments and kudos, and I'm always open to words.


End file.
